


Cold Turkey

by thiscorrosion



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Belly Kink, Eventual Reciprocation of Feelings, Every time I have to type out these tags I lose a year off my lifespan, Feeding Kink, I'd just like to call attention to the fact that Gerard outgrew the BP uniform, In a matter of months, It's frerard, Like, M/M, Smoking, Stuffing, That keeps me up at night, Unrequited Love, Weight Gain, chubby Gerard, obviously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:42:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26650867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiscorrosion/pseuds/thiscorrosion
Summary: The one where Gerard quits smoking and starts eating instead, and Frank is totally not an enabler.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 12
Kudos: 44





	Cold Turkey

“I’m quitting.” Gerard announces, slamming the pack of Camels down on the coffee table. Frank turns a page in the Rolling Stone. Gerard had let a gust of frigid air and cigarette smoke in when he’d burst inside, and Frank wonders momentarily if he’d ever just be able to enter a room without making a production out of it.

“I’m quitting.” Gerard repeats, then makes a big deal out of throwing the pack of cigarettes away in the kitchen garbage. He looks pleased with himself when Frank looks up from the magazine, and Frank realizes that this would have to be a conversation. 

“Okay,” He says slowly, closing the magazine and setting it down on the coffee table where the cigarettes had been. “Nice. That’s good. Just like that, huh?”

“Just like that,” Gerard confirms, perching on the arm of the sofa. He still smells like smoke, and there are snowflakes melting on the shoulders of his jacket and clinging to the close-cut tips of his bleached hair. “I don’t want to fuck up my voice. My throat’s been sore.”

Frank nods. Gerard’s voice sounds great no matter what-- even when he’s just woken up and he’s singing the Muppets theme as the percolator’s going, though Frank would never admit to that-- but he’d never object to Gerard trying to avoid lung cancer. 

“Good,” Frank says. “I mean, yeah, that’s great. I’m proud of you.” He adds, because he knows Gerard likes to hear it, and because it was what he had told him, over and over, all through the summer of ‘04 when Gerard had been getting clean. Seventeen days-- that was how long it had taken, all in all, and while it hadn’t been a particularly fun seventeen days, Frank had no doubt that Gerard would be able to do it again. He didn’t know if quitting smoking was the same as quitting drinking, but he did know Gerard, and he was pretty damn certain that if he was serious about quitting, he’d be clean in a few weeks. 

Frank doesn’t really like to think about before Gerard had quit drinking. That hadn’t been a fun summer, Gerard’s self-proclaimed rock bottom, and thinking back on it was like fast-forwarding through an old VHS tape. Bits and pieces here and there. Holding Gerard’s greasy hair back as he barfed up Burger King and Jagermeister. Helping him into the shower when he sobered up enough, bruised and smelling like something dead, and washing his hair and getting him into bed, knowing full well he’d be drunk again before the sun came up. Waking up to Gerard drunkenly climbing into Frank’s bunk, impossibly close to him and giving off heat like a goddamn furnace, feeling him move his hands across Frank’s chest and just barely brush his lips against his cheek before Frank pushes him away. Promising Gerard that they could talk about whatever the fuck that was the next day when he was sober, and then waking up in the morning to him already drunk again, and the disappointment that sunk in a few weeks later when Gerard finally did get sober and he realized that they never were going to talk about it. They never did, either, not even two years later with a fully sober and usually clean-smelling Gerard who seemed to be fully in touch with his emotions and had created a fucking masterpiece of an album and launched the band headfirst into real fame. And therefore Frank packaged up the memories of summer of 2004 and pushed them into the drawer labeled ‘DO NOT OPEN’ in the file cabinet of his brain. 

The sound of Gerard dumping the rest of his soda into the trash can pulled Frank from his thoughts. “Just in case,” Gerard explains, tilting the can so that Frank can catch a glimpse of the now soggy pack of cigarettes. “I’m serious about it this time. I’m done with those fucking things.”

“Good,” Frank repeats, and watches as Gerard makes his way up the stairs and into his bedroom. 

**

Two months ago, just a few weeks before the tour started, Gerard had had the flu. It had been pretty gnarly for everyone, especially Frank, who had somehow managed to escape unscathed and unsick from the whole ordeal-- surprising, considering he was pretty sure he’d been singled out by God or Jesus or whoever was in charge of passing out immune systems at birth-- but had been stuck with Gerard Duty, making sure he was fully stocked with ramen and sprite and enough Tylenol to put a small pony in a coma. Anyone who knows Gerard knows that he’s a diva at best and bitchy at worst, and dealing with a sick Gerard was never fun. So when Gerard walks into the kitchen that morning, Frank’s first thought is, fuck, again? and immediately scans the room for Mikey, hoping to avoid another week of hell. It isn’t until Gerard wordlessly pours himself an obnoxiously large mug of coffee, cold sweat gluing his short silver hair to his forehead, that Frank remembers. 

“How are you feeling?” He tries, sipping from his own coffee. Gerard looks like he has to manually unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth to reply, sitting down heavily in the cheap wooden chair at the kitchen table.

“Like shit.” His voice is phlegmy-er than usual, and he buries his face into his cup of coffee. 

“I bet.” That came out more mean and less funny than Frank had anticipated, so he tries again. “You want breakfast?” 

“I’ll hurl if I try to eat,” Gerard says. He looks a little better after getting some coffee in him. Frank passes him the Tylenol. 

**

Later, Frank drops a bag of lollipops he’d gotten from the post-Valentine’s Day sale at CVS onto the kitchen counter. They’re the heart shaped kind with little messages carved into them, and Frank had picked them up because the stick kind of resembles a cigarette and he figured Gerard might like to have something to distract his mouth with. He goes for casual when Gerard looks up at him, just to make sure he wouldn’t read too far into the ‘I LOVE U’ etched into each candy.

“You should eat something, dude. You’ll probably feel better once you get something in your stomach.” 

Gerard glances over at the bag, a hand pressed to his aching temple. Frank rips open the bag and takes out a lollipop, holding the thin stick between two fingers and miming smoking it. “It’s kind of shaped like a cigarette. Might trick your brain. Here,” He says, tossing one to Gerard, who catches it and hesitantly unwraps it, peering at the little pink heart before slipping it into his mouth. Frank sits down next to Gerard on the sofa, watches the TV. He hears the click-click of the candy against Gerard’s little chiclet teeth, the thin white stick nestled between Gerard’s fingers like a cigarette. Frank thinks, I LOVE U.

Frank guesses he must have been right about the candy helping, because as he brushes his teeth for bed in the downstairs bathroom that night, he hears Gerard rustling around in the plastic bag again.

**

The next morning passes by in a similar way, except Frank finally convinces a nauseous and grumpy Gerard to eat something. Gerard’s been holding his pinky finger in between his lips in a pathetic attempt to replicate a cigarette, so Frank throws another lollipop at him and stands up to make breakfast, for no other reason than to keep his mouth busy and hopefully stop the melodramatic sighs coming from that side of the room. 

After a few toaster waffles, Gerard has his hand back in the bag of lollipops again.

“My headache’s gone,” he mentions, fingers deftly unwrapping the lollipop. The bag is half empty. “I think I was just hungry.”

“Probably.” Frank agrees, and later comes back to find the empty bag wadded up in the trash can under the sink. He has to go to CVS again anyways-- he’s out of deodorant-- and it’s two for $4.99. He leaves another bag of the lollipops on the counter, and next to it a bag of those heart-shaped chocolates wrapped in foil. The moony-eyed love bug on the package seems to be mocking him, and he turns it to face the other way. 

**

“Three day hump,” Gerard mentions that night as he spreads mayonnaise on a slice of bread, sandwich fixings littering the countertop. Dinner had been an hour ago. “I’m just bored, that’s the fucking problem. I don’t know what to do with my hands.” 

Frank sits down on the barstool, watching as Gerard unwraps a chocolate, purple foil crinkling under his fingertips. “These taste like chalk.” Gerard complains, but the bag is significantly less full than it had been that afternoon. 

“Any nicotine cravings?” 

“No. I mean, kind of. I’m tempted.” Gerard finishes building his sandwich-- American cheese on one side, bologna on the other. A meal reminiscent of a former 90’s fat kid. “I don’t know how to describe it. My mouth is lonely.” He takes a bite. “I don’t want to smoke, I just want to… I don’t know. Do something with my hands, with my mouth. It was more like an activity, really. Just need a distraction so I don’t keep thinking about it.” 

“You can do it.” Frank says genuinely. “Take up knitting or something, you know, keep your hands busy.”

It’s not that funny of a joke, but Gerard laughs. Frank ignores the seize in his chest and makes a face at the love bug on the bag of chocolates, mocking him from its spot in the corner. Gerard’s hand slips back into the bag again, and now it’s almost empty.

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Grosss and all the nights spent in her Camry, fervently discussing the lack of content in our corner of this site.
> 
> Follow me on twitter! @Happyhappy1332


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